If I had the chance to say something to her at the age of 10, I’d say things get a lot better. The days won’t always be so dark. You won’t always be bullied and this is making you much, much stronger.

If I had the chance to say something to her at the age of 15, I’d say that you are incredibly beautiful, and strong, and perfectly enough. You have always been perfectly enough. Let those who love you support you.

To her at the age of 18, I’d say this relationship is not good for you. Know that others love you so much and the world isn’t going to end if you break up with him. You will learn to value and love yourself and how to stand up for yourself. You’ll learn how not to be emotionally blackmailed.

To her at 21, I’d say that others don’t love you because of your grades and your achievements. Truth be told, these things matter quite little in the larger scheme of things. People love you just because you are you. No matter what.

To her at 32, I would say that you don’t have to be a perfect mum, wife, daughter, employee. You don’t have to be perfect, full stop.

And to her at 35, I’d say you’ll hit rock bottom, but the only way is up. And what a fabulous journey it’s going to be. I promise. Things won’t always be easy, but you’ll finally have learnt to love yourself. And it’s then that you will truly be able to give, give, give. God had a plan for you after all. And you’ll be filled with gratitude.

Looking forward to whatever’s round the corner. This world is so big and so full of promise.

I went wandering last week while I was in Singapore and found myself in the National Gallery.

I’m reading a book called “A Little Nostalgia for Freedom” and in it Bonham writes: “…a nostalgia for lives not lived, adventures not taken and possibilities surrendered…”. How many of us surrender to habit and the daily grind, only to look back and say “I wish I had”? All the things you didn’t do, all the things you wish you’d said.

Life is short, and there is no predicting when we’re going to go. Some people live more in twenty years than others do in eighty. It’s not the time that matters, it’s the person.

So what kind of person are you going to be? The one who embraces new experiences and manages to see magic and wonder in the little things? The one who realises that life is a wonderful adventure?

You don’t need to have big pockets or be a world traveller to be that person. You see, what this is all about is the pattern of living the everyday life and discovering that it is all an adventure.

I’m on tour in Singapore for the next fortnight and the iPad isn’t really cooperating so I’m going with the flow and keeping it simple. A short text post this week, therefore.

I’ve been thinking a lot about communication and dialogue. Last night I had a long, intense conversation about moral theology, doublespeak, homosexuality and transgender issues, the principle of double effect, relativism, and diagnoses of madness coming ever closer to the boundary of ‘normal’. It got slightly charged at some points, and if I had been feeling vulnerable, the way in which my language and opinions were criticised would have cut pretty close to the bone. In the past I have mostly shied away from discussions like this as I have always felt unable to confidently articulate what I believe – I have felt intimidated by what I perceive to be others’ superior knowledge or intelligence. As it was, I think I held my ground. I asked questions and sought clarity, and was forthcoming in expressing my objections about the language of some of the criticism. My interlocutor withdrew the term of criticism that I’d taken exception to. We found we agreed on more than we may have initially thought, and politely respected each other’s positions where we disagreed, recognising that our different life experiences and influences will have shaped the views we hold. The me of five years ago would have avoided engaging with what turned out to be a rather valuable conversation in the end.

Separately, Trump and Kim are coming to Singapore next week for what will undoubtedly be an interesting conversation. And separately again, a close friend is having a meeting this week which is really significant in terms of opening up the channels of communication for important future dialogue.

What determines the quality of our interactions? We all come to the table with various assumptions, preconceived notions, biases, hopes and expectations. Sometimes we take risks in entering that dialogue. Sometimes potentially major ones, in the case of North Korea vs America chez Singapore, but more often than not, the risks we perceive are simply to our comfort and emotional and psychological security. To put it bluntly, on some level, when it comes to conversations that are emotionally charged in some way or which can trigger our insecurities, lots of us are scared.

So what do you do, if you are? Well, in the words of Susan Jeffers, face the fear and do it anyway. We don’t get less scared through avoidance; we get less scared through accepting that we’re scared and then engaging with the fear, because you need to practice to get better at anything. Progress can be slow, but you don’t grow unless you start the journey. Three things that have helped me: learning how the art of questioning can help you; being absolutely clear about what you think and what you want (if you’re going into a conversation with a purpose); and realising that you often know more than you think about any given subject.

In the past couple of weeks I’ve been talking to people about the difference between a goal-oriented mindset and a systems mindset, and the difference between commitment to action and attachment to the outcome of that action.

I recently learnt about two terms in Ancient Greek, telos and skopos. The distinction is that, unlike skopos, telos suggests an end or goal not in the sense of the thing you aim at, but rather your aiming at that end. In other words, telos = doing or getting something, and skopos = the thing done or begotten.

I like this distinction because the way in which we set goals for ourselves can affect our motivation and sense of achievement. To give an easy-to-visualise example – if you were an archer learning to shoot, your skopos might be to hit a bullseye, whereas to shoot well might be your telos. Similarly with the difference between aiming to lose twenty pounds in two months and eating well every day, or making a million pounds vs. building a business that’s true to your values. Your telos is absolutely within your reach, but your skopos is likely to depend on factors not always within your control.

So what’s the lesson? The importance of learning to detach yourself from the results of your actions. Another way you might choose to look at this is learning to appreciate the process, not just the outcomes. Achievement is not always marked by the tangible and the concrete. And life should not be viewed through the lens of success and failure, but rather in terms of all the experiences that make you who you are.

What do you think of when you hear the word ‘acceptance’? If we can’t undo or change something, we need to learn how to accept it, rather than living in the ‘what-if’ and the ‘if-only’; all this serves to do is freeze and frustrate us and stop us from taking positive and meaningful action. Acceptance doesn’t mean resignation, and it doesn’t signify giving up. It means understanding that this life has a rhythm, a heartbeat; space for both the beautiful and ugly, both pain and joy. I like the way St. Therese of Lisieux puts it: “I choose everything.”

God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.

I used to feel like I had never had any real passion for anything. Then somewhere in the last three years I found it in the dark. You have one life to live; don’t waste it wondering what could have been! You don’t need to justify yourself, what you seek or what you love, and you don’t need anyone to validate you. Whatever it is, go for it at full speed. Lukewarm and half-hearted is definitely not for you.

I love everything about bridges. The architecture, the view, stopping to watch the world go by around you, the feel when they sway slightly under your feet, and the way they mark entry to a different part of the world. What does this have to do with coaching? I love the way they are a meeting place; a possibility for change; a metaphor for journey and connection. Bridging the gap. Crossing the bridge. Water under the bridge. Are you building or burning bridges?